Woebegone

I had yet another dream,
where the rivers flowed back the stream,
Unable to fill it, it drains.
But that was before the owl flew,
Across the environs to awaken our blues.
On a tree it perched unable to hoot.
Now rubbed off it's sacredness, all far from good.
Unfolding yet another story untold; the woebegone.
War broke_a small town taking on another.
Train nozzles of machine gun now drunk,
Cross fire built, humans roasted like rodents.
Heads rolled away from it's body;
Blazing matchets taking command of them all,
Where to be, where to sleep.
Children, men, all sire victims.
Not long, fire wrecked every home.
Desolate and destitute, no one speaks peace.
It was a new range, a new energy.
Bold vengeance written on every face,
Children of men became hunters of men.
Terrified now, birds lost their wings to air.
Everything on its legs ran.
With nothing after it, yet ran.
The aqua creatures lost hope,
Without water, they can't cope.
Man against man: everywhere got levelled.
Houses to ashes, trees then splashes.
Only man made flew then plucked.
In a flash, everywhere painted red.
Corpse and carcass liter, all pungent.
Would you desire to know,
The sight of a child poured acid on the face.
Would you desire to know,
Nothing about the experience is thrilling.
it might come to a zilch....
The sight is ugly, ugly and ugly.
For never was a story of more woe,
Than my eyes met than this.
I could end it all, if I were God.
penlord
©penlord